I Hate Your Guts!
by readbetweenthesigns
Summary: An argument, an earworm and make up sex…it's all good, really it is! An M rated one-shot with McBusted's I Hate Your Guts in the mix.


**Disclaimer: Ownership is neither claimed nor implied, the author does not make any profit from this work of fiction.**

 **A/N: An argument, an earworm and make up sex…it's all good, really it is!**

The tension in the apartment was palpable, it was almost visible, tangible, something – or someone – had to give…and they both knew it!

"It's not going to be me," Puck silently fumed to himself. He barely kept himself from growling when Quinn swished by to pluck some ridiculously shaped fruit from the fridge. Even the way she opened the fridge door made him want to scream, Jesus, she really pissed him off when she got like that, demanding, like the freakin' diva she thought she was.

Quinn deliberately ignored Puck as she peeled and chopped her way through the designer fruit basket that her sister had sent to her. She ignored Puck's frequent snorts of derision, even though she really wanted to stab him in the eye with the very sharp paring knife that she was gripping tightly in her hand.

Quinn hummed quietly to herself as she methodically rinsed the utensils she'd used, as she put them in the dishwasher, as she wiped down the kitchen counter, as she concocted her fruit salad, as she added Greek yogurt, as she ignored Puck who was still stood watching her, like he was waiting for her to speak or something. "Yeah, like I'm going to talk to you, fuck face," she said inside her head. "You want me to speak to you, you can kiss my ass first," she added just as silently.

Quinn picked up her dessert and walked back towards the huge, comfortable sofa that dominated the large, open-plan living space. Just as she knew he would, Puck followed her. Neither of them spoke as they sat at opposite ends, they barely even glanced at each other, but Quinn was sure she could almost hear the wheels grinding and the steam building inside him, he was going to blow, he would be the one to give in first, he would be the one to talk first, he always was. "Keep going, asshole," Quinn silently encouraged as she ignored his very presence – which she knew would wind Puck higher and higher till he blew. Quinn coughed slightly as a piece of fruit caught in her throat for a split second.

"Yep, that's right, fucking choke on it, you bitch," Puck silently begged as he watched out of the corner of his eye, watched Quinn savour every mouthful as though it was the most delicious thing she'd ever eaten. Puck turned on the TV and deliberately sought out the sports channels, just to be sure that he pissed Quinn off even more. "Mess with the bull," he thought as he tried to keep the smirk from his face. "Fucking wonderful," he cheered internally as he found a game of golf that, by the looks of things, had just started. "This could go on for hours, and there is nothing she finds more boring than golf. Yes, there is a God," he crowed in silent satisfaction.

Quinn refrained from making any comment whatsoever – even though it almost killed her. No way was she going to give him the satisfaction of being the one to break first, not a chance! "Golf?" Quinn questioned in her mind, without even looking his way or rolling her eyes like she wanted to, she knew he'd see that as a victory. "Like you've ever even watched a game of golf before in your life, you freakin' hate the game, you always say you do after my dad invites you to play a round with him," she reminded herself. "And that's how I know I'm getting to you and that you're a fucking loser, dickhead," she added as she filled her mouth with another spoonful of deliciousness. Quinn sighed with pleasure as she scooched into the huge cushions, made herself even more comfortable. "Mmmmm," she allowed the sound out, she knew it would piss Puck off.

Puck looked across to the other side of the sofa. "Seriously? Like fucking fruit is as good as sex," he scoffed in his head. "That's the noise you make when you're sucking my dick," he reminded himself and then looked away from her back to the TV. "You'll be fucking lucky to even _see_ my dick this side of fucking Christmas," he grumbled silently as he shifted to try to hide the sudden stiffening in his pants. "Fu-uck," Puck wanted to shout, especially when Quinn began to lick the spoon and make that sexy, sighing, moaning noise. "Keep it up," he warned inside his head. "What now?" Puck sighed heavily as his unasked question was answered by Quinn standing up and deliberately walking very slowly in front of the TV to block his view as she made her way back to the kitchen.

Puck's toes tapped on the beautiful, dark, hardwood floor as he pretended to watch the golf on TV. "What am I thinking now?" he muttered to himself as Quinn rinsed the bowl she'd used before putting it in the dishwasher. "I'm thinking that you're the moodiest bitch I've ever known," he quietly answered his own question. "And you can get fucked if you think I'm talking to you at all tonight," he added under his breath, just before Quinn walked towards the sofa and then veered off towards the bedroom. Puck covertly watched Quinn's every step, almost drooled at the way her hips swayed, at the way her ass taunted him. "Bitch," he muttered and then closed his eyes and sighed with relief when the bedroom door clicked firmly shut.

Puck stretched out on the sofa, made himself comfortable and then flicked through hundreds of channels to find something that he really wanted to watch, not just something that would piss Quinn off. "Great," he murmured sarcastically as he came across a music channel that was in the middle of a McBusted set. Puck quickly flicked the channel over. "Fan-fucking-tastic," he grumbled as the catchy tune stuck inside his head.

Quinn returned to the living area, she'd obviously showered because her hair was damp and slightly wavy, and for some reason, Puck assumed that it was to torture him, she had dressed in the most provocative, sexy, downright dirty nightwear that she owned. It was the set he'd bought for her on their trip to Paris, the set that had never even lasted on her body a full fifteen minutes, never mind a full night, it was nightwear that was not intended to be slept in. Quinn glanced at Puck, he read the taunt in her eyes immediately. "Not a fucking chance, buster, see what you could have had," he decided were the words that were probably going through Quinn's brain right now.

Quinn sauntered past the TV, she bent a little and turned the volume down manually, her pose was deliberate, her feet apart, her legs straight, her back bent slightly to give Puck the best view of her ass in the most deliciously, delightfully, decedantly, digustingly naughty underwear that she owned. "Thank you Paris, and all of your lingerie stores, I love you," she congratulated herself and her choice of attire when she heard Puck's stifled groan. "See what you could have had if you weren't such an asshole?" she silently asked Puck, she still had no intention of speaking to him, not until he apologised and admitted that he was an idiot and that he was wrong. No fucking way!

Puck swallowed hard, he felt the heat in his blood screaming through his veins, he felt the majority of his blood pool in his groin, he thanked God that he didn't have loose shorts on. Puck knew his erection was growing, he covertly stroked his hand along the bulge, he knew that Quinn would notice, but he wanted to pretend that he didn't know she would notice. An idea suddenly twirled through Puck's brain, it was something he knew would piss Quinn off and put him higher in this game of one-upmanship that she had started. "Where are all the soft porn channels when you need them?" he wondered as he flicked faster and faster through the channels. "Oh, baby, look at the tits on you," he thought maliciously as he finally paused on a movie of a man and a woman simulating sex.

Quinn seethed when Puck stopped channel surfing to watch two people fake fucking. "Really?" she wanted to scream, but sheer determination kept her silent. Quinn glanced out of the corner of her eye at Puck, his hand was stroking the obvious boner in his pants. "Oh, come on," Quinn cried inside her head, "that's for me in this outfit, not for those two faking it," she wished she hadn't vowed that she was never going to speak to him again, because she really wanted to yell at him right now, but nothing, absolutely nothing short of the world coming to an end would entice her to break that vow, not until he apologised.

"Yeah, baby," Puck sighed silently as the couple on screen pretended to engage in a blow job. "Ohhhh," he sighed aloud as he released the buttons on his pants, allowed his erection room to grow. "Mmmm," he moaned as his hand slipped into his pants and he stroked his already hard flesh.

Quinn refused to be beaten. "Two can play at that game, asshole," she thought and gave Puck such an icy look that he should have been covered in frost. "Mmmm," Quinn sighed as she brushed her fingernails very lightly over her pouty, pink nipples. She stretched sensuously in her seat, her body undulated towards Puck, it was almost involuntary the way she gravitated towards him. Quinn allowed her knees to fall open, she trailed her hand lightly - so lightly that she barely touched herself – from her knee to her scandalous panties. "Ooooh," she sighed and closed her eyes, she frowned as though lost in thought, lost deep in the well of sensual expectation. Quinn desperately wanted to open one eye to see if Puck was watching her, she wanted to see if he was desperate yet, see if he was ready to cave…but she didn't dare to.

"Mmmmm," Puck moaned, he let his head fall back onto the squishy cushioned arm of the sofa and pulled his erection free of his pants. "Oh," he sighed as he began to stroke it firmly, masterfully. "Oh, yeah," he sighed.

Quinn risked a glance. "For fuck's sake," she shouted in her head when she saw what Puck was doing. She watched as Puck's firm grip slid up and down the pole of flesh that rose from his lap, she held her breath and bit her lip as his fist slid over the tip and then back down again, she watched the faint sheen of moisture as he spread it all over and she had to physically stop herself from lurching forwards to take it in her mouth.

"When I was 17, I wished I was 23,  
When I hit 23, I wished I was 17,  
Now I'm almost 29, I wish I was 85,  
It would be statistically unlikely you'd be alive

Because I hate your guts,  
Shit I hate you so much,  
I hope you suffer a small paper cut,  
I hope your boss makes you stay for a half hour more,  
Because I hate your guts,  
And I wish I didn't love you anymore," Puck sang in his head as his hand worked to the rapid beat of the song. "This song is so true," he sighed as he glanced down, saw the dribble of moisture just before his hand collected it and spread it along his solid erection. Puck risked a glance at Quinn, he almost swallowed his tongue when he saw what she was doing to herself. "Crap," he almost whispered and then closed his eyes to block her out.

"I hate the way you breathe,  
The stupid way you sneeze,  
How does everything you eat,  
End up stuck in your teeth?  
The way you steal the sheets,  
When we go to bed,  
As I death stare a hole in the back of your head.

Because I hate your guts,  
Shit I hate you so much,  
I hope the battery dies on your phone,  
I hope your favourite TV show fails to record,  
Because I hate your guts,  
And I wish I didn't love you anymore.

Wish I didn't love you [woah]  
Wish I didn't love you[woah]  
Wish I didn't love you [woooaaah]

I hope when I'm out on tour,  
You lose your keys to the door,  
Because I hate your guts,  
And I wish I didn't love you anymore.

Wish I didn't love you [woah]  
Wish I didn't love you[woah]  
Wish I didn't love you [woooaaah]

So you must be mistaken,  
If you want to date me,  
You'd be more respected,  
If you were to hate me,  
There's so many warnings  
You choose to ignore...

Because I hate your guts,  
And I wish I didn't love you anymore...

I HATE YOUR GUTS!" Puck's head was rocking in time to the unheard song he'd just sung in his mind, he opened his eyes and glanced down, he knew his dick was quivering, it was desperate to replace Quinn's fingers and do the job properly.

Quinn watched through slitted eyelids, she had to know the second he caved, the second that it was all over, the second that she won. Puck groaned, she saw his other hand slide into his pants to cup his balls, it was his 'go to' comfort move, Quinn knew he was close. "Oh," she groaned, she couldn't contain the sound, the unexpected jolt of feeling right there, right at the heart of her, it was almost too much.

Puck surged forwards to cover her, he couldn't take it a second longer, he had to sink into her. Quinn cried out as she felt Puck's solid flesh fill her, it was a cry of pleasure, of delight, of victory. "I hate you," he growled into the fragrant curve of her shoulder and neck.

"I hate you more," Quinn hissed back. She grunted as she twitched her hips up, rocked up into him, she wrapped her legs around his ass and moaned as their lips crashed together.

Puck vaguely heard the faked moans and groans from the TV, he knew that the moans and groans from the sofa were real, very real, he pushed deeper, pressed into her and held tight. "Oh," he sighed as he felt her inner muscles grip him hard, felt them ripple on his sensitive erection as he withdrew. "Now," he whispered and gathered her even closer, pressed into her one more time. "Yes," he grunted as he felt Quinn shiver with her own release.

"Yes," Quinn sighed as she felt the force of Puck's release jet deep inside her. Quinn felt her ovaries rejoice, felt her entire womanhood tremble with excitement, this was what she wanted, this is what they'd been arguing about. "Mmmm," she moaned with pleasure and hugged Puck tighter into her arms. "Why did you change your mind?" she mumbled her question into Puck's chest.

Puck pushed up so that he could look into Quinn's face. "Because I love you," he replied, "and because you came in here wearing that stuff, my dick thanks you," he added and then dipped low to kiss her once more.

"You know that we could actually get pregnant tonight, right?" Quinn reminded Puck, she felt a shiver of excitement, of anticipation, rush through her. What if she actually _did_ get pregnant tonight, they would no longer be a couple, they'd be a family…were they really ready for that?

"Sure I know it," Puck replied with a shrug – they'd spent two freakin' hours arguing about it after all. Puck flexed his still hard dick inside his wife. "But I think, after eight years of marriage and being the birth parents of a fifteen year old girl, I think maybe we're ready," he mumbled.

Quinn didn't reply, she couldn't, she was so overcome with emotion. Puck allowed himself to be seduced again on the sofa. Twice, actually.

Five Weeks Later…

"You sure?" Puck asked breathlessly, his nervous reaction level had escalated to defcon three. He listened for a second. "Cool," he added and tried to hide the tremble that he knew was in his voice. "Send me a picture," he instructed. "I have to go, I've got thirty recruits all staring at me," he muttered into his phone. "See you tonight," he whispered before ending the call. Puck blushed slightly as Kenny Loggins' Danger Zone sang out from his phone. "Cool," he muttered to himself as he opened up the picture message that Quinn had sent to him.

"Is that what I think it is?" Harry Sharpe - one of Puck's squadron buddies - asked as he looked over Puck's shoulder.

"Yep," Puck nodded proudly and held the picture up for the other trainers in the group to see. "This is it boys, no more poker nights at my place," he announced. "Quinn's pregnant," he cried happily. "I'm going to be a dad," he said as his group of buddies cheered and applauded…and then it hit him. "Oh, crap," he said with a gulp as the colour drained from his face, "I'm going to be a dad."


End file.
